


Dial It In

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Dial it in: to make small adjustments until you have the perfect shot.</i> Tonight, on TOP SHOT, revenge is the name of the game. Old challenges come back to haunt our final five marksmen as they compete in a new kind of obstacle course. With everyone's sights set on the 100,000 dollar prize, friendships and alliances in the house will be tested, and a pair of rivals will meet in our elimination challenge to see which one will continue on their quest to be our TOP SHOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dial It In

  
**SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA.  
TOP SHOT. DAY 24.**   


"What the fuck was that?"

Jensen cracks the bedroom door and glances towards the kitchen. The secondary camera team is milling down by the door to the patio, but the clattering comes from the eating area next to the kitchen.

"Sounds like Carlos knocked over another bar-stool."

"That fucker." Jared's voice is muffled by three layers of blankets. Mornings in the hills are chilly, but Jared acts like he's been forced to live in the tundra. "It's too early."

"That's two bucks you owe me," Jensen says, pulling on the only clean green polo shirt he has left. His old red shirts are hanging up next to Jared's blue ones in the closet, symbols of the rivalry they'd struck up as soon as the cameras were rolling.

"No cameras in here," Jared complains. "Besides, they can bleep me out."

"That wasn't the deal. A dollar every time you swear, man. It's not that hard to keep it clean."

Jared mumbles something that would probably earn Jensen another few bucks, but he lets it slide. The kid's gotten better since they all met. No one in the house was a saint, but Jared had a sailor's mouth and even Jensen wanted to shove a bar of soap in there to see if it would help. Wagering was the only way to get through Jared's thick hair and thicker skull; Jensen's up at least fifty bucks by now.

Three sharp knocks on their door and Leroy sticks his head in.

"You guys sleep alright?" Leroy asks. "Danno gave us the word to be up at the practice range in half an hour." Danno, one of their assistant producers, keeps them all on a pretty tight schedule in the mornings. "Is Jared gonna be up by then?"

"It'll make for better drama if he's not," Jensen says, grinning at the former marine, but Leroy's all business, shaking his head.

"Haul him out and come get some breakfast before it's gone."

"Yes sir."

Leroy's mouth twitches but whatever, Jensen's always polite. Grabbing his belt, he gives Jared's twin bed a good kick.

"I will end you," Jared threatens from within his blanket burrito.

"Get up or I'm not saving you anything to eat."

"I will end you _twice_."

"So damn lame," Jensen huffs, kicking the frame again. "Ass up, Padalecki. It's time for your next lesson."

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 2.**   


_Jensen expects the patio to be empty._

 _Both camera crews are in the house and the rest of the Red team is celebrating their victory in the season's first challenge; the overconfidence strikes Jensen as being too obnoxious this early in the competition. Sure, Jensen's happy, but they're just getting started. No way in hell Jensen's getting cocky yet._

 _It's quiet out on the villa's patio, but Jensen's definitely not alone._

 _The kid, Jared, is slouched on a lounge chair, chin tucked into his chest. His Oakley shades are hooked on his shirt even though the sun's been down for an hour. It almost looks like he's sleeping, but as Jensen turns to go back inside, Jared speaks up._

 _"I think I'm going home."_

 _"Excuse me?"_

 _Jensen back tracks over the flagstone until he can see the kid's eyes. Confusion and anxiety don't make for a pleasant mix and those emotions are all over the kid's face._

 _Jared sighs. "They're gonna eliminate me."_

 _"As far as I know, they can only vote for you to compete again. They can't actually vote you off the show. You have a chance."_

 _More than just a chance, Jensen thinks. He'd caught site of Jared during the challenge, cataloging everyone's skills. The kid's a fast shooter, but he seemed especially nervous, has more to prove because he's the youngest competitor in the field. But Jared's team had lost and, from what Jensen's been hearing in the house tonight, the despondent Blue team is ready to throw their youngest under the bus._

 _It doesn't sit well with Jensen._

 _"So, you're Jensen?" Jared asks, uncrossing his scuffed cowboy boots and sitting up in the lounger._

 _"And you're Jared."_

 _Jared laughs. "Guess I wasn't the only one actually paying attention to names. You're with the police, right?"_

 _"Up in San Francisco," Jensen says. "Been there since I got out of the Marines two years ago."_

 _"You're close to me, then. I'm in my first year at Stanford Law."_

 _They trade small talk about the Bay Area and Jensen watches the panic seep out of Jared's eyes. It's hard to feel comfortable here given the show's hectic schedule and the pressure of competition, but Jensen finds himself relaxing. Jared's a good kid: twenty-three, a member of the National Rifle Team, and already being scouted for the Olympic shooting roster in the next summer games, he admits with a goofy grin._

 _"And you probably like long walks on the beach, too," Jensen jokes._

 _"Only if I'm taking them with my dogs, and then it's more like getting dragged down the beach."_

 _Their conversation fades and the pin-pricks of starlight contrast with the sky's inky background. Jensen's chair faces Jared's, and their feet share space on the same uneven flagstone._

 _"Thanks, man," Jared says. "I know I'm your competition and all—"_

 _"I wouldn't go that far."_

 _"Dude—" Jared scoffs, but then he starts laughing. "Yeah, I had that one coming."_

 _"Don't worry about tomorrow," Jensen tells him. "You haven't gotten to know your team yet, so they'll vote on perceived weaknesses, not bad shooting."_

 _"They're gonna vote for me."_

 _"If they do, then you kick ass against whoever you're shooting against and show them how wrong they were to underestimate you. You're a quick thinker, and a fast shot. Just don't let anything else get in your head during the elimination, and use your strengths."_

 _Jared smiles. "Got any other lessons for me, Officer?"_

 _"Tons, but you've gotta pull through tomorrow to hear them. Think you can manage that, Padalecki?"_

 _"Yeah," Jared says with renewed vigor. "I think I can."_

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 24.**   


"It's definitely gonna be a multi-weapon challenge," Carlos remarks to the group, looking at the display of firearms, throwing knives, and— _aw, dammit!_ —bows laid out on tables in front of their practice range.

"Alright, shooters!" Colby sounds more awake than any of them, probably up for hours in hair and make-up before meeting them up here. Colby's smile is white and Texas-wide, cheeks brown from the wind and sun. "Today you're going to get the chance to redeem yourselves. In front of you are weapons you're going to recognize from old challenges."

Colby runs down the list of weapons, flubbing his dialogue a few times and stopping to re-film, laughing apologetically when Jared mocks his mistakes. As their host talks, Jensen's going through each weapon in his head, remembering the challenges they were a part of and identifying his weaknesses. Jensen doesn't even want to acknowledge the long recurve bow sitting innocently on the second table. He's not Robin Hood, for God's sake.

"There's the recurve bow, used in our fourth challenge, and the 1873 Winchester rifle, the gun that won the West." Colby points out the HK93, one of Jensen's favorite rifles, next to the TZ99's and Smith & Wesson's.

Jared is eyeing the Beretta shotgun, scowling. He didn't have a good encounter with that one, Jensen remembers.

"During today's session, you'll each be given the same amount of practice time. You can split your time between two weapons to refamiliarize yourself, or take the entire time to practice with a single weapon, but you cannot practice with more than two weapons, so choose carefully. Craig Sawyer and Garry James, two of our training experts, are here to help you out. You'll draw randomly for practice order, so let's get started."

Jensen draws the first slot; Jared draws the last. He tries to block out the sight of Jared pacing behind the practice tables, chewing on his thumbnail.

The crew splits up; most of them remain on the practice range to film Jensen, but a few return to the house with the rest of the shooters. Private practice has its advantages but Jensen's already a little jittery.

He gets through twenty minutes with the Winchester, solidifying the feel of the rifle in his hands, the pressure of the trigger and the force of the kick-back. Jensen learns to absorb it throughout his body, unshakable, and then he moves to the recurve.

"Here we go again," he mutters, the microphone attached to his collar easily picking it up. "I bet this would be easier if I had tights."

Back at the house, Jensen finds Jared in the kitchen scarfing down half a box of cereal.

"I thought you had breakfast," he says, dropping his windbreaker on the stool next to Jared.

"Elevensies," Jared mumbles, cornflakes in the corners of his mouth.

"What?"

"Nevermind." Jared gets everything in his mouth and swallows. "How'd it go?"

"Frustrating, but you'll see. Choosing what to practice on was pretty easy." Jensen grabs a banana from the mosaic bowl on the counter. "Where's the camera crew?"

"Outside I think," Jared says. "After Leroy left to practice, Carlos and Angie went outside. I don't think I was invited, you know what I mean?"

"Any problems?"

Jared knows what Jensen's getting at. Since the merge between the two teams, Angie's gotten more aggressive towards Jared where the cameras won't catch her.

"You mean, did she touch me in a _bad place_ , Officer?"

Jared's got an irresistible smirk so Jensen lets the familiar joke play out. He leans in close, conspiratorially.

"Can you show me where the bad lady touched you?"

Jared laughs. Jensen loves that he's comfortable enough to let go, to be honest with Jensen, but of course there are times when sideline humor works better.

"Are you gonna make me forget the unwanted groping?"

Jensen stops with the banana in his mouth. Jared's eyes are wide, mostly amused, as if he's holding in another laugh at the sight of Jensen fellating a piece of fruit. But underneath, behind a layer of playfulness, is a more serious hurt. Jensen wants to offer a familiar comeback—tell Jared he'd be more than happy to touch him in any way deemed necessary, but he frowns and squeezes Jared's shoulder.

"Hey, seriously—"

"It's fine, Jensen," Jared cuts in, putting his hand over Jensen's. It's warm, intimate. Them. Jensen's glad the camera crew is outside filming Carlos and Angie's strategy session so he doesn't have to share the moment. "I can handle Angie. She's just trying to get to me."

"And me."

Jared cocks his head. "What do you mean?"

Jensen didn't mean for that to come out, but Jared's watching him in earnest. He looks around, checks to see that Brandon's not lurking around the corner with a hand-held camera. Flexing his fingers under Jared's, he sighs.

"Angie knows it gets to me, too. She always has."

"She does it to you?"

"Come on, Jared. You're not that dense," he says lightly.

Jared ducks his head, so much like he'd been doing when Jensen found him on the patio that first night. There's a blush spreading on his cheeks, but before Jensen can say anything else, heavy footsteps herald the return of the camera crew and their competition. Their hands drop just before Carlos comes around the corner with a cameraman on his heels.

Jensen silently curses when Angie sits right across from them at the counter, her big blue eyes dissecting the physical distance between Jensen and Jared. Jensen glares back when she throws him a smirk and he really hopes the cameras caught _that_.

He'll subtract a few bucks from Jared's running total for his mental tirade. It might be the least he can do for Jared, but he vows that it won't be the only thing.

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 9.**   


_Eliminations rarely go down without a little bit of drama. But then without drama, the final show edits won't be nearly as exciting. Dress it up with professional shooters and zero skimpy outfits, and Top Shot's still a reality show, Jensen thinks. No getting away from that._

 _Tonight, Jensen's team is pissed. They've dominated the Blue team in the first three challenges and no one's happy about their streak being broken. Given his distracted performance and shoddy shooting, Jensen's the perfect scapegoat tonight._

 _There's a crew in the corner of Jensen's bedroom, failing to be subtle. Jensen tilts his head up and frowns at Brandon._

 _"You don't need me to say anything, right?"_

 _"Nah," the cameraman says. "We're just shooting you sitting there, lookin' all pathetic."_

 _"Should I pout some more?" Jensen likes Brandon. He's from Texas, grew up not far from Jensen, and his drawl's comforting. That and he never lets any of the marksmen stew for long when he needs a specific shot._

 _"You've got the mouth for it, Jenny."_

 _"I hope to God they cut your sass out."_

 _Brandon's laugh is cut off by the bedroom door opening. Jared appears, white-socked feet noiseless on the hardwood floor. Brandon's crew is immediately focused on Jared, chatter going quiet._

 _"Hey, man. Rough luck tonight."_

 _Jensen bristles despite Jared's soft consolation. "It wasn't luck."_

 _"So, what was it then?"_

 _As Jared sits down on the bed across from him, Jensen's almost impressed that Jared doesn't bite back at Jensen's bitter tone. He's calm, ears open, and willing to listen no matter how much Jensen wants to beat on him._

 _The cameras keep rolling, probably hoping for Jensen to snap and give them an earful._

 _"I don't know what happened," Jensen starts, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Maybe I'm not as good as I thought."_

 _"We were shooting with bows and arrows, Jensen. No one was good today. Like, whoever sucked less was gonna win this one." Jared smacks his hand down on Jensen's knee, gentle pressure to bring Jensen's eyes up. "This time, it really was luck."_

 _"I did so bad."_

 _"So don't fuckin' think about it."_

 _"Man, you shouldn't swear," Jensen chides him, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. "This is for television."_

 _"I can't help it, I've got a sailor's mouth."_

 _Jensen raises an eyebrow. "You do, huh? Maybe I should charge you a dollar every time you swear until you stop."_

 _"You're gonna end up a poor man then."_

 _The room's quiet for a few minutes except for the electronic buzz coming from the camera crew. Jensen can't stop circling back to seeing the target with his name under it being obliterated on the nomination range. The Red team's first trip to elimination, and Jensen was nominated without a second thought._

 _Bows and fucking arrows. Jensen had thought Colby was kidding when the host pulled out the antiquated weapons._

 _But the weapons weren't the only thing troubling Jensen. The man sitting across from him has more to do with Jensen's distraction than he wants to admit out loud._

 _There's something brewing between Jensen and Jared, something that the competition and good-natured rivalry don't account for. They can't talk all the time, but ever since the first elimination challenge, when Jared walked confidently back into the house as the challenge survivor and found Jensen's eyes, they've progressed to a point beyond friendship._

 _Only, Jensen's not the only one in the house who thinks they have a connection with Jared._

 _Angie is one of two women in the competition. Jordan, a show shooter for Wild West reenactments, is all Southern-drawl and Dixie-manners, bringing humor and a motherly warmth to Jared's team. But Angie's all fire and grit, holding her own on Jensen's team. She's brazen, a hot-shot coming up through the ATF, and she's attracted to Jared; Jensen had no trouble figuring that one out. Not to mention, she's sharp. She sniffed out Jensen's bond with Jared almost as soon as it formed, and it irked her._

 _Angie had been all mouth on the morning of their bow and arrow practice session, dropping comments about Jared and making sure Jensen was there to hear. Baiting, caring more about distracting Jensen than making sure their team was solid. She's dangerous, Jensen knows that now, and he's not going to make the mistake of underestimating her again._

 _That is, if he lasts through tomorrow's challenge._

 _"You're going up against David, right? You can beat him, Jensen."_

 _"I know." Jensen's not kidding. David's abilities come and go depending on the challenge. He's been reliable—never great but never terrible, either—and that's all Jensen can say about the Federal Air Marshal on his team._

 _Jensen's just not one-hundred percent sure his head's in the right place to pull out a victory._

 _"Try to survive, alright?"_

 _"Are you saying you'd miss me, Padalecki?"_

 _If nothing else, the cameras are gonna get plenty of banter out of the two of them._

 _"Gotta keep Team Jay-Two together, man!"_

 _"How many times do I have to tell you?" Jensen asks with mock exasperation. "We're not on a team."_

 _"Fine," Jared laughs. "Then I'd miss the opportunity to beat your ass again."_

 _"Take it all in," Jensen teases, breathing a little easier. Underneath everything, he senses Jared's camaraderie and the faith he has that Jensen will pull through. It may not mean much when it comes to pulling the trigger tomorrow—or shooting those damn bows—but it definitely means something. "Because I'm not gonna let it happen again."_

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 24.**   


"Jared, hey. Wait up—"

Before Jensen can make it through the door of their bedroom, it slams in his face. Cameras are there to catch the whole thing, but when Jensen looks to Brandon, his pal waves the crew off.

"Let's take five," Brandon says, directing everyone out of the hallway. He gives Jensen a nod over his shoulder and follows the rest of his crew.

Jensen's stomach is sour and he's exhausted from the challenge. Colby had dropped them in a shooter's obstacle course like they were in a cheap game show: multiple weapons and multiple objectives. Sure, the viewers would get a kick out of it, but the course was mentally grueling, each of them taking their turns competing for the best overall time. It had taken the better part of the afternoon to film and in the end, Jared's time sent him to the bottom of the pack. As the slowest, Jared was automatically up for elimination.

Ending up in second place behind Leroy, Jensen could only stand helplessly as Colby informed Jared that he was being sent to elimination. Jared's face had been pinched; he was angry and barely responsive. Once they were given permission to head back to the house, Jared had taken off, stride too much for Jensen to keep up.

Jensen considers knocking, but Jared's good at avoiding people when he thinks his silence will make a point. It's easier to walk in and face Jared's wrath than wait with the unknown.

"Jared, I'm coming in, okay?"

What he finds isn't what he expects. Jared's on his bed, but he's not curled up against the wall or hiding his face; he's not angry or destructive. He's sitting on the edge of the mattress with one of his bags pulled up at his feet, and he's holding something small between his fingers, staring down with his lips in a tight line.

Jensen waits before crossing the chaos of personal belongings strewn across their floor. The bedroom used to belong exclusively to the Red team but as the competition dwindled down to only a few, spaces were rearranged and Jared moved in. It worked for the most part. Jensen and Jared could navigate around each other without much of a fuss, and Jensen welcomed the extra support.

"This isn't a real medal, you know?" Jared holds up the small bronze disc clinging to a red ribbon. He turns it between his fingers; the metal must be soft and warm by now. "My dad got it for me when I was a kid and I was just starting to get into shooting competitions. Man, I sucked back then."

Jensen laughs; it may not be the appropriate reaction but it's what Jared needs. He smiles and looks up.

"I never won anything, and eventually I got so bummed my parents didn't know what to do. So, my dad got me this medal. He told me that he thought I was a great shooter, and that I'd grow up to be an expert. He said that all I needed was a little victory to get me going."

"You've kept it all this time?"

"My mom sewed it into my duffel when I got to high school so I'd always have it. I forgot about it..."

Jared trails off and sighs. Jensen sits next to him, closer than he's used to. He understands Jared's attachment to his dad's medal; sometimes what matters is what you walk away with when you don't win it all.

"Hey—"

"I don't want to talk about the challenge," Jared interrupts. "It was bound to happen sometime, you know? I mean, I never seriously thought I could win this. I'm sure no one expected me to do much of anything when I first got here."

"I did."

"I know, Jensen," Jared says gently. He tightens his fist around the medal and holds it to his chest. "Thank you." He's quiet for a moment before he starts chuckling and shaking his head. "But hell, if I'm going down tomorrow, then I'm going down fighting. I don't care who I have to face, they're gonna have their work cut out."

"What if it's Angie?"

Jared's smile shines all the way into his eyes, dimples deep and cheerful. "If I'm up against her, I'll give her a lot more than my ass to worry about. She's over, Jensen. Seriously."

"I'm with you, man," Jensen says, bumping Jared's shoulder. "We've gotta get her out of here."

"Carlos is never gonna vote for her. You're close to Leroy, ex-Marines and all. Think you can bring him around to shoot Angie's target?"

"It's worth a try."

And hell, Jensen's definitely going to try. Leroy had been a mentor for Jensen when they were both on the Red team, but lately, with the competition winding down to the final days, the middle-aged Desert Storm sniper has been more focused on taking out his competition rather than being fair. Everyone wants to win, Jensen supposes. Although right now, looking at Jared and staring down the possibility that Jensen might lose him, winning doesn't feel all that shiny.

"Damn straight," Jared adds. "You and me, Jensen. We're gonna make it all the way through this thing."

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 14.**   


_"And that, gentlemen, is how it's done." Gabe tosses the cue onto the felt and throws his arms up. "Now, who wants a lesson?"_

 _"Man." Jared laughs and slaps Gabe on the back. "Shut up."_

 _The wide living room in the front of the house is dominated by an elegant pool table. In a house filled with marksmen, it's been damn popular, but Jensen has yet to see Jared take a turn. Gabe, a young construction worker and pistol champion, has been flaunting his billiard skills, goading his housemates into playing him. It had only taken Gabe twenty minutes to beat Jordan, but she's good-humored about the loss, grabbing a seat next to Leroy on the couch. And now Gabe's looking for his next challenger._

 _"You must suck," Gabe is telling Jared. "I haven't seen you play once. Ashamed or something?"_

 _"Or something." Jared looks over at Jensen and winks. "Wanna teach me?"_

 _"Sure, man."_

 _From the armchair, Jensen's focus is half on the thriller in his hands and half on Jared circling the table, bending over to take his shots._

 _Jensen's not blind—he can shoot the stem off an apple at fifty feet—and he's definitely not ignorant, so he can acknowledge the fact that Jared's a good looking guy; he's fit, focused, and always up for a laugh. What throws Jensen is the idea that he's meeting Jared here of all places. He works in San Francisco, so he's met his fair share of handsome gay men, automatically ruling out any guy who thinks Jensen's poorly dressed up as one of the Village People when he's wearing his uniform. No way his Lieutenant would let him get away with pants that tight._

 _Walking into this competition, Jensen hadn't been prepared to meet anyone. He knows better than to pursue anything major while he's in the house, but if he and Jared keep hitting it off the way they have been, Jensen's pretty sure he'll at least gain a life-long friend. No use thinking about more right now, though. He's got a competition to win._

 _That doesn't mean Jensen can't appreciate Jared's ass when it's being paraded around the table._

 _"What'dya say, Jensen?" Jared waves the cue in front of Jensen's face. "Wanna take my skills for a test drive?"_

 _And then there are comments like that, given with a smirk and a clever eye._

 _"I hope you learned a thing or two."_

 _They flip to break and Jensen wins. Their audience shrinks when Danno sticks his head in the room and announces dinner._

 _"Just admit you're gonna lose right now," Jensen offers, "and I'll let you go eat."_

 _"Take your shot, Officer. Food can wait."_

 _Jensen sinks one striped ball off the break and another on his second shot. Jared sidles between Jensen and the front windows to get around the table._

 _"Man, you're built like a house."_

 _"You'd never know it when I was a kid," Jared says, setting up his first shot. "I was gangly, all knees and elbows and big feet, you know? My mom used to call me 'Colt' because I'd stumble over everything."_

 _As soon as Jared takes his shot, Jensen knows he's been had. It's a double strike right off the bat. Jensen should have known better; Jared's smirk is a telltale sign of imminent danger._

 _"I don't believe it," Jensen grumbles, watching another solid ball slide into the side pocket. "You're a shark."_

 _"Nah. I just spent a lot of time at pool halls with my buddies in college. Learning and playing was the best way to stay mostly sober those nights."_

 _"Not a big drinker?"_

 _Jared shakes his head and studies the table, leaning one elbow on his cue. "I'm not too big on losing control. I like having a good time, don't get me wrong, but beyond a few beers, things can get a little fuzzy."_

 _"Gotcha." Jensen's not big on drinking either; he's seen too much overseas and on the streets to want to tempt fate just for a buzz. Jared leans down, and Jensen sighs. "Man, do I even want to bother with this game?"_

 _"Hey, if you can't handle a little challenge—"_

 _Jensen grins. At this point, they've got the room to themselves and there are worse ways to spend a night than shamelessly flirting and getting his ass handed to him by a law student-cum-billiard shark._

 _"Shut up and take your shot."_

 _"Yes, sir!"_

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 24.**   


When it happens, it happens fast. For Jensen, it's a blind-side. Jared's thin lips and tight eyes mean he'd suspected something going into the vote.

"That's two votes for Angie and three votes for Jensen," Colby repeats for the fourth time, high winds blowing static into everyone's mics. "Sorry, Jensen. You've been elected by your teammates to join Jared in the elimination challenge."

Carlos and Angie look smug enough to light a fire. Leroy lets his headphones twirl in his fingers; he isn't as pleased with himself, uncomfortable with Carlos and Angie's scheming.

Fuck. Jensen doesn't give away even the slightest twitch for the cameras. _I thought I had Leroy on my side._

Three bullet holes mar his target on the nomination board. Carlos and Angie, high on their horses, had turned his name into **J NS N** , taking out the **E** 's with the kind of precision that would have helped them out on the obstacle course. Leroy's shot was high, nearly off the target, as if he couldn't bring himself to desecrate Jensen's name.

Jared looks at him, apology written all over his face, but Jensen's pragmatic enough to know that there was nothing Jared could have done besides put his bullet straight through Angie's target. It wasn't enough.

 _Goddammit, Leroy_.

Jensen keeps his poker face in place for the cameras. If he were facing Carlos or Angie, he'd give them a big smile, confident he could take those schemers down. Carlos has made it far on his rifle skills, a hunter from the time he could hold a gun, but there are so many skills Jensen could take him on. As for Angie—well, Jensen would welcome any excuse he gets to knock her out.

This is Jared. Jensen can't— He doesn't want to—

But Jensen isn't left with a choice. He's no longer in a competition because this is officially a disaster. There's no way he can face Jared tomorrow, not when it means one of them is inevitably going home.

And Colby hammers that point right through Jensen's skull with his next audio bit.

"Whatever happens in the elimination round, you should be proud of yourselves for making it to the final five," Colby's saying. "But for one of you, your Top Shot journey ends tomorrow. I'll see you bright and early on the practice range."

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 18.**   


_"You haven't been out there, Jared! You've never seen real shooting. Playing on the range isn't like being on the streets, and it's nothing like being at war."_

 _"Jensen—"_

 _"Your targets don't shoot back!"_

 _Jensen is red in the face and breathing heavily. Jared's a wall, arms crossed and feet set on the asphalt driveway running up behind their villa. Jensen figured the force of his anger would budge Jared, but he stands serious and unshakable._

 _"Are you done?"_

 _"What?" Jensen's question has a bite._

 _"Are you done," Jared emphasizes, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Because you're being ridiculous."_

 _"Ridiculous," Jensen scoffs. "Are you serious right now?"_

 _"As a heart attack, man."_

 _Jensen's too mad to call Jared on being glib. Jared and Gabe's comments keep coming back to haunt him and he hates that he can't see past them right now. But Jared's taking every blow like a prize-fighter and facing Jensen down._

 _"You're pissed, I get it," Jared continues. "We were acting like assholes and we didn't think about what we were saying."_

 _"So that makes it alright?" Jensen snarls. "You think it's okay to slam on us like that? We served our country, Jared. You're not allowed to impugn that! Not when the only shooting you do is at painted targets for fun. The skill is a game for you, man!"_

 _"You wanna be mad? Fine," Jared says, edging up into Jensen's space, his eyes daring. "Be mad at me. But don't take it out on anyone else. I can take it," he growls, "so get mad."_

 _Jensen shoves Jared back, barely conscious of the camera crew and one of the assistant producers catching every word and action from the back steps. No one intervenes—not yet. Not when the potential for scene-stealing drama is there. Angrier still that his emotions are going to become a plot-line, Jensen knocks Jared's hands away when he steps forward and reaches out._

 _They're both physical guys, solid at the core. Jensen pushes and Jared shoulders his way back, never once even threatening to strike Jensen. He's just there, a stubborn blockade absorbing every one of Jensen's blows._

 _Jensen stumbles against Jared. His eyes are burning but they're dry, and his skin feels dry and stretched too thin._

 _"C'mon, Jensen. Get mad." Jared's voice is down to a whisper that's blown right across Jensen's cheek. That small force knocks the wind and the anger out of Jensen; he sags forward with his forearms braced on Jared's chest, spent from the rage he couldn't avoid._

 _"It's okay," Jared says, motionless as he supports Jensen's weight._

 _"Fuck." Jensen's pissed at himself now, but that burn gets snuffed out quickly._

 _Any mention of his time overseas brings with it hard memories and pictures of men who didn't come back. Adding insult on top of that had lit Jensen's fuse and there was no stopping the explosion. It's rare, though, that he finds someone like Jared willing to face the wreckage even after he'd been part of the problem. Jensen finds an unexpected maturity on Jared's face when he looks up, their eyes catching for a few seconds past casual._

 _Jensen breaks away. He catches the shiver that runs up Jared's body but makes no comment._

 _"So, do you want to tell me about it?"_

 _"I'm still angry, Jared," Jensen grumbles, but there's no force behind it. Truth is, he needs Jared to understand why he snapped; it's important._

 _"I don't blame you, man. I was a dick, but I'm willing to listen to whatever you want to tell me." Jared smiles. "Plus, I stole half of that coconut cream pie that was in the fridge earlier. How's that for a peace offering?"_

 _"Only if you spoon-feed me, dude."_

 _Jared throws his head back and laughs, breath clouding just above his lips before its lost in the night._

 _"Don't push your luck."_

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 24.**   


Dinner is understandably subdued. The five of them grab their plates of spaghetti and spread out to different corners of the house. With their plan already triumphant, there's no reason for Carlos and Angie to scheme anymore; even they go their separate ways for the night.

Jensen doesn't see where Jared goes off to, but he walks outside instead of heading for the bedroom. It's cool and the wind rattles through the leaves on the trees, but it's otherwise quiet. Exactly what Jensen needs. He thinks and eats and thinks some more, huddling into the cushion on the lounge chair and putting his back to the wind.

When he finally heads inside, the house is just as quiet. Leroy is stretched out on the couch with a book in his hands, but he waves to Jensen as he walks through.

"Jensen, look—"

"I don't really want to hear it, Leroy." Jensen can be gruff with the man; they're Marines and there's no beating around the issues. "I don't really know why you did it, but it's done and I'm gonna deal with it."

"Alright," Leroy says, nodding. "But let me tell you one thing." He glances around but it's a little late for a camera crew to be hanging around to catch their conversations. "Neither of you are focused on the competition right now."

"Wait—"

"I'm telling you what I see," Leroy cuts in. He continues in low tones. "Maybe you've found something you want a little bit more than winning this thing, and that's fine, but don't kid yourself. Do you still want this?"

"Leroy," Jensen starts, but he can't think of a single thing to finish with. "I've gotta get some sleep."

"Good luck," Leroy says, and Jensen gets the feeling the old Marine's not talking about the elimination tomorrow.

Jared's waiting in the bedroom when Jensen opens the door.

Jensen shivers, thinking maybe Leroy has a point. Sitting on his bed, Jared looks so damn soft and comfortable, wearing long green flannel pants that bunch around his feet and a heather gray tee; Jensen's imagining all kinds of scenarios involving cool sheets and warm skin. What he's not doing is thinking about the elimination tomorrow, and that has to change.

Jared looks up and his eyes regain their focus.

"I was wondering where you were."

"I ate outside," Jensen says, closing the door behind him. "Where were you?"

"In the dining room." Jared's laugh lacks any punch. "Weird, no one else actually uses it to eat in."

An uncomfortable silence descends. Jared is looking everywhere but straight ahead, gaze flitting across the room. Jensen's not used to feeling awkward around Jared so he takes a leap and clears his throat.

"I've been thinking a lot about tomorrow. Obvious, I know, right?"

"A little," Jared says, grinning. He stands and wipes his hands down his pants. "I can't believe you were nominated. That's such bullshit, man. I never thought Leroy would do that to you."

Jensen doesn't call him on the language; he needs to get through his speech.

"You deserve to keep going, Jared. Listen, this competition has been great for me, but things have changed and I want you to know—"

"Wait a minute," Jared tells him, hands out to stop Jensen from saying anything. There's no expression on his face to clue Jensen in. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I've come as far as I need to and I want you to be the one to continue on the show."

The room sounds hollow as Jared stares at him with utter disbelief.

"You're kidding, right? This is a joke."

"No, Jared, I'm serious. You want to win this thing—"

"Don't tell me what I want." Jared glances down and bites his lip, waiting for his breaths to even out. Then he says, "I can't believe you're saying this. I told you that all I wanted was to go up against the best, and that's you, Jensen. I know it. Hell, everyone in this house knows it."

"Jared—"

"Stop arguing, I'm not letting you give up on this. It's ridiculous."

It very well could be the most ridiculous thing Jensen's ever thought of doing, but he has his reasons. Before he can explain, Jared's eyes have got a bead on him and he won't stand down.

"If you throw the challenge then you're not the guy I thought you were."

That hits Jensen below the belt. He's been nothing but open with Jared, baring his heart and soul in hopes of earning a life-long friend and possibly more.

"Why can't you see that I just want something else?" he asks, stalking up to Jared and keeping the words between them. "Maybe winning's not the most important thing."

He can see right into Jared's eyes; they're wide-open but dark with anger.

"You don't know what you're talking about. I'm not gonna let you ruin your chance to win, and I..." Jared stops and steadies himself. "I can't be the reason you throw it away."

As Jensen's listening to the ultimatum come from Jared's lips, he notices Jared about to take a step back. He can't have that. His offer to throw the elimination was as good as any confession of feelings and now he's stuck in that heavy place between wanting and having.

"So, I won't win," Jensen says. "But I'm not throwing everything away. I want you to win this."

"And you don't think I can beat you straight up?" Jared snaps, drawing his body close to Jensen's. The anger and confusion that has filled Jensen's mind starts to warm into something softer. "If you respect me at all, you'll give me that chance."

"It's not like that."

"Then what the hell is it?" Jared asks, looming over Jensen's body.

That warm feeling spreads down to Jensen's toes, tingling. He realizes that their hips are flush and gently rocking together. Jared is breathing heavily, chin down as he stares, noticing exactly what it is that has robbed Jensen of words. They're both looking, but neither of them stop moving, mouths open.

Jensen couldn't stop if he wanted to. He's focused on his objective, dialing in the best way to move for maximum effect. Jared, too, is making subtle adjustments of his hips, knees knocking into Jensen's as he shimmies back and forth.

The conversation completely lost, Jensen gives over to the feeling of grinding against Jared's thigh, panting across the distance between their mouths. His eyes fall to the dip between Jared's collarbones, tracing the pulse up the side of Jared's neck and gauging the effect he's having on him.

Their movements get harder and more deliberate, no denying their intention. Blood pounds in Jensen's ears like a club beat that invades his senses and keeps him moving. They fit together better than Jensen could have predicted, but there's still something off about the entire situation. When he sees panic flare up in Jared's eyes, he knows he's not alone.

"Wait." Jared takes action, pushing at Jensen's shoulders. "This isn't—Jensen, this isn't right."

From the pressure coiled up inside of him, Jensen's too close to snapping to respond calmly.

"Fuck you, Jared. I've had enough of you trying to tell me—"

"Jensen," Jared whispers, stroking down the side of Jensen's face with a gentle hand, the first real touch Jensen wants to acknowledge. Jared doesn't bristle at Jensen's outburst. "I meant that you haven't even kissed me yet."

Jensen feels his face crumbling, brain desperate to rewind the last few minutes. Jared, however, is smiling, all kindness and charm.

"And you owe me a dollar."

It takes a second for Jared's words to sink in. Jensen stares, a little dumbfounded, until Jared's grin truly registers and Jensen's mouth starts in on damage control.

"Oh God, Jared, I'm sorry."

"Hey, I don't care," Jared says, readjusting his stance so that their arousal is less of a distraction. Jensen's grateful; he has a lot he needs to straighten out.

"I didn't mean to—"

"I'm serious, Jensen." He slowly rubs his hands up and down Jensen's arms, squeezing gently for emphasis. "Don't apologize. Just tell me you're not going through with your stupid—yeah, I said stupid—plan," he adds when Jensen attempts to defend himself. "I want to compete against you and, win or lose, I want you at your best. I want you to try to kick my ass because there's no way I'm gonna take it easy on you. If you want me to be the best, you owe me a real challenge."

"A challenge, huh?" Jensen pretends to think about it. Jared's absolutely right. Throwing the elimination would be disrespecting Jared's skills and everything else he's learned about the young man. He deserves more from Jensen. "Then you'd better be ready to get your ass kicked."

"Good," Jared says, relieved. "Now, either kiss me and do this right or find somewhere else to sleep because I will not—"

 _Kiss me_ is all Jensen needs to hear. He's always been good at following orders.

Their beds may be small but Jared and Jensen fit well enough. Tucked skin-to-skin beneath the sheets, Jensen kisses Jared long into the night. He'd been right; everything about having Jared is perfect and comfortable, earlier issues shaken off and forgotten. Elimination looms come sunrise but they pay no attention to the time, stroking each other and smiling between kisses.

Learning Jared's body is like learning a new weapon: gauging the feel of the whole thing in his hands, touching every inch to become familiar. He wants to learn Jared's triggers and the pressure he'll need to set Jared off, the weaknesses he can take advantage of to have Jared coming apart and the strengths Jensen can rely on to carry him through. Jensen wants to know Jared piece by piece and take whatever time he needs to hone the skill of pleasuring him.

You've got to know a weapon, backwards and forwards, before you can call yourself an expert, and Jensen intends to become a fucking grand master when it comes to Jared.

Jensen nearly bites through his bottom lip when Jared goes down on him. Jared's tongue has perfect aim—Jensen really shouldn't be surprised—taking out his sensitive spots one by one. Jensen's hands drift restlessly over Jared's shoulders and neck, up to his face where he tries not to squeeze when Jared sucks hard. He thumbs softly over the mole next to Jared's nose, attempting to hang onto his sanity at the same time.

Never motionless, Jared's hands work over Jensen's legs and between his thighs. Callused skin makes for a rougher touch than Jensen is used to, but the feel is nothing short of amazing. Jared's thumbs dig deep into the muscle under Jensen's cock like he's pulling the hammer back on a pistol and getting ready for Jensen to shoot. Jared is consummate and enthusiastic, devouring every reaction Jensen gives him and coming back for more. His mouth has Jensen's toes curling into the sheets, pleasure spiking throughout his body, but Jensen doesn't want to come alone.

Jensen moans Jared's name, dimly conscious that they don't have the house to themselves. Jared obliges when he tugs, dropping Jensen's slick erection from his lips, crawling over Jensen's hips and up to his mouth.

"You're good at that," Jensen praises. He watches closely as Jared's eyes go soft, dimples punctuating the delight in his smile.

Jared nips and tongues at Jensen's lower lip, soothing the earlier self-inflicted hurt.

"I'm good at everything."

Holding Jared's face still, Jensen kisses him.

"So show me."

Pushing up on his elbows, Jared tips his face down to meet Jensen's eyes. "Are you sure? I mean, tomorrow—"

"You think I can't handle you?" Jensen taunts, darting forward to sneak another kiss; his aim's a little off and his lips find the bow on Jared's upper lip. He's wrapped up in their moment, unwilling to let anything slip past.

He flexes his entire body, gives Jared a bit of a show. Then he smirks and teases Jared with his own spiel.

"If you respect me at all, you'll _give it to me_."

Jared's eyes take on the same shine they do when he nails a challenge: proud and giddy, emotions so apparent. He doesn't promise to make this good, or perfect, or say he's going to blow Jensen's mind. Saying nothing — putting it all into looks and touches — tells Jensen more.

Jensen digs the lube out from his duffel under the bed. It's been well used ever since Jensen realized that controlling his dick around Jared wasn't an option; he'd needed some form of release when pulling the trigger wasn't doing it for him. Jared scrambles for a full minute before he comes up with a condom. He brandishes the little package and insinuates himself between Jensen's legs, bringing the warmth back with him.

"I'm glad I didn't empty my bag before I packed."

"Are you just gonna keep talking?" Jensen's ready for the offended look Jared throws his way. "Or do you need another lesson?"

"I'm gonna give you a show," Jared says, skimming his lips down Jensen's chest. "Since you've clearly underestimated my skills."

Jensen never has, not since Jared came through in his first elimination; he knows better. Just as he knows that tomorrow's going to test both of them and leave only one man standing. Adamant that he fill every minute until then with Jared, Jensen sets aside the humor and holds Jared's gaze.

"No show. Just you."

The heat of Jared's mouth flares over Jensen's stomach, each kiss loaded as a response. After spending several deliriously frustrating minutes fingering Jensen wide open and slick, Jared gives him every inch in an unhurried thrust. Like powder slow to catch, the burn is intense and it spreads throughout Jensen's lower body. Caught tight in a small space, they move as if they have all the time in the world, hidden from cameras and competitors, and anything else beyond the reach of their fingers.

Jared shifts forward, raising Jensen's knees around his hips. His moans are muffled by Jensen's lips as they stretch to kiss one another, connecting even further. Jared's hair hangs in Jensen's face, smelling clean and tickling his cheeks.

And Jared isn't shy about voicing his enjoyment. With Jensen's ears so close for him to whisper into, Jared drops praise and endearments, and most importantly a promise that this is only the beginning.

"You've got me," Jared says, stroking Jensen from the inside out, responding to every hitch in Jensen's breath and his wordless pleas for more.

By the time Jared is rocking hard into the cradle of Jensen's thighs, pawing down the sides of his chest, Jensen has gone half-mad. Torn between wanting his pleasure and staving it off for a bigger climax, he pushes and pulls at Jared's shoulders. Under their Top Shot polos tomorrow they''ll be sporting one another's marks, signs of something more than a simple hook-up. Reminders that what happens at elimination only matters for the show, not for them.

What happens in this bed goes with them when they leave.

Jared is panting wildly, ready to come. Jensen encourages him, moving a hand to his erection and hissing when Jared's fingers twine with his, both of them working towards climax.

Jensen comes first. Jared holds himself steady within Jensen's body, putting pressure exactly where Jensen needs it and letting him enjoy every shattering second of his orgasm. Only when Jensen's beginning to soften, sated down to his bones, does Jared start to move again, coming a moment later with his lips on Jensen's, eyes clenched through the rush. Jared falls into Jensen's arms, both of them sweaty and quiet, and doesn't move until their heartbeats have slowed enough to pace one another.

The night is far from over.

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 21.**   


_"What would you do with the money if you won?"_

 _Jared curls the twenty-pound weight up to his bicep, counting down his last five reps while he thinks about Jensen's question._

 _"I'd probably pay off my student loans," he says after he's done, setting the weight back on the rack. "Get a better place to live because anything affordable on my stipend is pretty crappy."_

 _They're the only ones in the weight room tonight. After the last elimination, Colby had merged the Red and Blue teams together, opening the game up to a more heated competition. The announcement had set off a whole new round of scheming and strategizing that Jensen was loath to participate in, escaping to the weight room to find Jared already going hard at the machines._

 _Jared is really the only company Jensen can stand, but being alone together in the weight room, both of them sweating and undressed down to shorts and t-shirts, isn't ideal either. He's going to have to watch where his eyes land. They have a tendency to linger on bare skin and long lines, or just about anywhere inappropriate when Jared's around._

 _"What about you?" Jared asks._

 _Like now, Jensen's gaze had gotten lost somewhere around the elastic waistband of Jared's shorts, hanging onto his hips for dear life. He has no idea what they're talking about._

 _"Huh?"_

 _"If you won the money..."_

 _"Oh, I'd definitely invest some of it," Jensen says. "Something might happen to me on the job, you know? It doesn't hurt to be prepared."_

 _"Is that all?"_

 _"Nah, I might get a better place to live, somewhere I could have open space. Maybe donate the rest to scholarships set up in my buddies' names at their old high schools."_

 _"Dude, I can't compete with that. You're, like, Captain America's more upstanding cousin."_

 _"You're right." Jensen curls his lip. "You should just drop out now."_

 _"Right?" Jared laughs. "I mean, I already won that Winchester..."_

 _Jensen sighs at the mention of the beautifully restored Winchester rifle Jared had won in an Old West shootout challenge. Seeing Jared take out targets like a perfect cowboy had done unspeakable things to Jensen's already colorful fantasies._

 _"So you should quit while you're ahead."_

 _Jared pretends to think hard on it, forehead scrunched up and lips pursed. He ought to look ridiculous but Jensen's mind strays into provocative territory far too often._

 _They get back to their routines, swapping small talk when one of them spots the other. Later, when Jared's toweling down and Jensen's emptying his water bottle, Jared sighs._

 _"We're really getting down to the end of this thing, aren't we?"_

 _"Ridiculous, huh?"_

 _"Yeah." Jared hangs his head for a moment, laughing to himself. "I can't believe I'm still here. I never thought... You know?"_

 _"We're experts for a reason," Jensen says. "Every day we're here, we're getting better."_

 _It sounds a little cheesy to Jensen's ears, but he goes with it, seeing the truth. He feels like a better marksman, and he's definitely become a better competitor. He just needs to stay focused, concentrate, and let nothing get in his way. The minute he becomes distracted, he might—_

 _"Alright, now I'm starving." Jared zips his hooded sweatshirt up to his sternum. "Wanna come see what they left us for dinner?"_

 _"It'd better be enough for the both of us or I have a feeling I'm gonna go hungry."_

 _"Dude, I've got your back."_

 _"Does that mean you'll leave me enough to eat?"_

 _Jared chuckles, dimples laughing right along with his smile. "It means I've got a box of granola bars stashed under my bed in case I don't."_

 _Jensen leaves his focus in the weight room where it stews like a petulant child. The rest of him trails after Jared, laughing all the way to he kitchen. He forgets why distraction is such a bad idea._

 

  
**TOP SHOT. DAY 25.**   


Jensen regards the Beretta like an old friend. He's overly familiar with the weight of it loaded and unloaded, where his fingers fit best around the textured grip, and how the semi-automatic's short recoil is going to feel when he steps up and takes his first shot.

They've only used 92FS pistols on the show, but they're nearly identical to Jensen's old M9 sidearms. In the back of Jensen's mind, it registers that he's much more comfortable with pistols—especially this pistol—than Jared, but when Colby shows them the course they're competing on, that ease hardly matters.

"Distraction's the name of the game today," Colby says, shouting over the roar of wind machines and other equipment. "You'll be shooting in difficult conditions—facing wind, rain, and visual obstructions—trying to take out as many of your markers as possible within the time limit. This challenge isn't just about accuracy or speed. You have to deal with the elements around you and plan your shots accordingly. You'll be shooting the Beretta 92F pistol with a maximum of 60 shots. The competitor who shoots the most markers wins and stays in the competition. The loser must leave immediately."

Once Colby's instructions are filmed, Jared and Jensen get more specific instructions. Machines are set up to bring wind and light rain onto different parts of the course while a separate bank of targets are blocked with high foliage. Jensen doesn't want to compare it to shooting around buildings and debris while he was in the Middle East, but his head goes there anyway.

He spares a long look over at Jared while the safety team double-checks the course. Jared is still and calm, eyes running over the obstacles before he catches sight of Jensen. They share a smile.

Colby waves them over to the table.

"You guys want to flip to see who goes first?"

"Nah," Jared says. "Age before beauty."

Jensen nods. "Let me show the kid how it's done. Jared'll have his work cut out for him."

Colby judges their expressions and laughs. "You guys realize that one of you has to lose, right? You're gonna confuse people if you look too happy."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jared says for both of them. "You're giving me the chance to kick Jensen's ass, on camera, one-on-one. This is the best day of my life."

"And either way," Jensen finishes, "after today, I don't have to worry about going hungry because Jared ate all the food in the house. It'll be great."

"Y'all are weird." Colby gives them each a befuddled look. "At least pretend like this matters, okay?" He jokes, hands together as he mock-begs them. "Make yourselves look all mad and pretty."

"Oh," Jared says. "It definitely matters."

Colby claps. "Alright then. Jensen, step up to the plate when you're set."

Jensen takes his place at the start of the course, ready to face the wind. Before the safety chief calls for the field to be cleared, Jared comes up behind him and pats him on the back. The cameras don't catch his words, only the wide grin he's sporting.

"I've got you."

Jensen lets a breath go and picks up his earplugs. The course is clear and the fans begin to roar. Colby signals to the camera crews, and Jensen's completely in the zone.

"Marksman ready? Go!"

~~~

"Time!"

When Jared fires his last shot, Jensen has no idea who's won. He hadn't wanted to watch Jared take his turn. Didn't want to count the targets as Jared took them out with steady precision. Jensen's proud of Jared's effort, his commitment to the competition, and thankful he was able to experience so much of Jared's personality.

Jensen's going to walk away from this competition—whether it's five days from now or five minutes from now—as a more highly skilled shooter. When he arrived he was a one-dimensional competitor, sticking to pistols and combat shooting. He'll leave an enthusiast, ready to improve his skills on a range of weapons he'd never even imagined using.

Except that damn recurve bow. That thing can burn for all Jensen cares.

And Jensen's going to walk away a better man. No one, after living in a house with fifteen other shooters and competing every other day under stress, can walk away unchanged. Reality competitions and character growth—who knew those two things could go hand-in-hand?

The machine noise dies down, leaving only natural wind and sun. Jensen can see Angie peering at the course behind him, counting and turning to Carlos.

Jared lopes over to Colby and Jensen as soon as he unloads and checks his weapon. He's all smiles and Jensen wants to hug him right there, feel all that exuberance. He wishes they could end this competition right here and now because it's not about Carlos, Angie, and Leroy looking on from the bench, and it's not about the money waiting for the eventual winner.

Today it was simply Jensen versus Jared, and the show could end here for all Jensen cares. Neither one of them would need to go on without the other.

Colby sets up the decision shot and gives nothing away.

"It's clear that as this competition winds down, these elimination challenges are being won by slimmer and slimmer margins," Colby says, adding weight to his words. Jensen tilts his head in Jared's direction, showing respect for a great competitor. Jared does the same. "Today was no different. One of you pulled off a victory by only a single shot. Jensen... Jared... You've both earned your spots at the top of this game."

Colby trails off for dramatic effect and gives Jared and Jensen a chance to acknowledge each other for the last time as competitors.

"But one of you has fired your last shot..."

Jensen holds his breath.

 

  
**EPILOGUE.  
THREE DAYS AFTER TOP SHOT WRAPS.  
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.**   


The doorbell rings fifteen minutes early.

Jensen dries his hands off with the kitchen towel and jogs to the door, already knowing who's on the other side.

"You're early."

"I wanted to make sure I had the right place."

Jared steps into the hallway more dressed up than Jensen's ever seen him. He'd gotten used to plain blue jeans and t-shirts during filming, but now Jared's legs are wrapped in dark denim, feet in cowboy boots, and his black sweater looks irresistibly soft.

They haven't seen each other since the elimination. Eight days, and Jensen's missed Jared to the point where he knows this has got to be something real. There was nothing casual about his feelings, and his memories have yet to fade; Jensen's as happy to see Jared now as he was spending time with him in the Top Shot house.

Since Jensen moved to San Francisco, he's met a lot of guys. Barely any of them had taken aim at his heart the way Jared has; none of them were remarkable. Jared has proved that he's worth more. Like a weapon, he's greater than the sum of his parts.

The hug Jensen gets is remarkably calming. Despite the way they'd left things in the competition, there had been that inevitable uncertainty. Jared even smells amazing, like sandalwood mixed with citrus. Jensen breathes deeply, relaxing more every minute Jared's in his space.

"Congratulations, man," Jared says, tightening his arms. Jensen goes warm with the pressure, finding something he'd been lacking during those last eight grueling days of straight-out shooting and drama. But he'd stuck it out, thinking of Jared the entire time.

Jensen grins. "You already said that on the phone."

"I wanted to say it in person. You're the damn Top Shot, I can't believe it."

Jensen pulls back, holds Jared's elbows. Winning Top Shot hasn't sunk in yet; it's only been a few days since the show wrapped and Colby had sent him home as the victor. Hell, he hasn't even gotten the real check.

Right now, Jensen couldn't care less about the money or the title.

"I'm seriously glad you're here. You've got time?"

"I've got the whole weekend free if you don't mind me doing some reading. I brought my stuff but I wasn't sure—"

"Oh, you're staying," Jensen laughs. "You're gonna be lucky if I let you leave."

Jensen leans in for a kiss, feeling Jared's whisper on his lips.

"No cameras?"

"Not tonight."

"Good, 'cause you're all mine now."

"I can live with that," Jensen says, finally getting his kiss. Jared's hands wrap around his neck, thumbs stroking the curve of his jaw. "Now, how would you feel about another lesson?"

"Absolutely, _Officer_."

 

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> I had written a few lines of this when the first season of Top Shot aired. Matalinolukaret and I fawned over the show and decided that there must be an AU of it, but to no avail. Then, about a week ago, I saw the ads for the second season start up and pulled up my old notes. The story took off just like that and practically wrote itself! And now, if you enjoyed this, go and enjoy the second season of Top Shot :) GUNS AND BOYS AND SURVIVOR!COLBY...WHAT IS NOT TO LIKE?
> 
> I apologize for the lack of gun-porn-talk :-) I know it would have been a perfect opportunity, but this felt right!
> 
> I changed the format of the show for the final competitors. There was no voting once the teams were merged, and players were eliminated based strictly on performance. For drama and more of a plot, I changed it so that one player was voted on the range to go head-to-head with the challenge loser. There were a few other changes to the format that fans of the show might recognize, but it made for a better story... So sue me :)
> 
> Thanks to dugindeep for the encouragement! \o/


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